If she had her way, she would slaughter every one of them.
"Look at her hair! What a horrendous color! Do you even brush it? I bet the King pays him to look at you."
"You can tell her father has no money, that dress would be a rag in my house!" The tallest one grabbed the end of Morgana's sash and she heard the thin fabric tear as she pulled away.
"Pity your mother died so young. I am sure even with her base manners she would've made you into something like a lady."
Children are keen to the weakness of their peers and their precise attacks can be brutal on the psyche. At seven, Morgana was privy to the daily taunts and leers by jealous daughters of dukes and marquises. When their beloved fathers were diligent in their noble work, they relished in the embittered tears flowing down Morgana's cheeks. Her fists remained ivory weights at the end of her arms, clenched quivering with the preservation of her reputation. She would never take the bait of their indignity. She would nev